


I'm ignoring you this time!  Really.  Why doesn't that bother you?

by illicio



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 08:43:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1976502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illicio/pseuds/illicio





	I'm ignoring you this time!  Really.  Why doesn't that bother you?

 

 

 

 

        You can run from any amount of things in life -- including life itself -- but you can't escape memories. Everyone has them: you can find yourself in the memories of others even if it's the last place you want to be.

        His body hit the table so hard it wouldn't have been weird if he became one with it, merging into a half-weapon, half-stainless-steel monstrosity. Stein wasn't sure that would have been bad: on one hand, the outcome would have been fascinating; on the other, it was a very useful table... but sometimes sacrifices had to be made in the name of science...

        Aiding the union toward taking one terrifying step closer to reality, he bent over the body and filled the curves of its back with his own.

        Spirit was belly-down against the cool surface, his arms folded over the top. He lifted his head, eyes shut while he fussed, "You're... really clumsy."

        "Ah, is that what it is?" wondered Stein, who diligently divorced the happy marriage between Spirit's stomach and the table, palming it with his right hand.

        He found it strange how some things didn't change -- especially when it was a physical attribute. Spirit's stomach felt smooth, free from the hard muscle Stein had. The skin felt soft against his well-worn hand, hardened by heavy use and abuse alike, like it belonged to someone who truly cared about how the skin on their stomach felt and loved their body, indulgently washing it with vain products -- but the moment you applied any pressure, it was solid. It was deceptive.

        "It's dark," said Spirit.

        Stein said nothing, because it was.

        "I don't like being here when it's dark."

        Stein said nothing, because he didn't care.

        Spirit squirmed in discomfort, trying again like a child desperately attempting to get a playmate to speak to him after they'd clearly declared, _I'm ignoring you!_ "I can't see!"

        Stein had no pity. He said, "Is that so?" and his voice was dangerously close to Spirit's ear. "I can." He tipped his chin and bit Spirit's shoulder, not unlike the way the snake woman had bitten his own. Spirit turned his head away, exhaling an, "Ah-" that wasn't a loud exclamation of pain more than a breath -- which was how Stein knew it had actually hurt.

        He couldn't see his face, but he knew what it must have looked like: blue eyes screwed shut; brows twisted in discomfort; a frown on his mouth...

        Once he moved -- once his hips fit just right -- he felt Spirit shudder and knew he looked ill.

        Stein occupied his memory like a reoccurring nightmare. Worse than that, he occupied all semblances of Spirit's personal space, burrowing his face against the side of his neck, biting the fair skin. When he heard "Ah--ah--ow--" he released it, leaving behind thin red dents. His tongue slipped from his mouth, traveling the stinging half-circle. When his lips moved, it wasn't in a kiss more than a sentence he wanted to say, his breath hot against the wet places, producing a sensation that appealed to the part of Spirit that didn't want to run away.

        What he said wasn't comforting: "It'll hurt," and then his mouth traveled to his partner's earlobe, where he closed his teeth again.

        Spirit tipped his head toward Stein, drawn to the heat of his mouth like someone who was open to any form of warmth after being left alone in the cold for so long -- and in a way, he had been. "I know," he said.

        It was a solid answer. Men went to war on answers like those. They knew, despite never having seen war, they were going to hurt a lot of people, do a lot of things they didn't like, and see many things they'd never be able to un-see again. Spirit was prone to melodrama, but it wasn't pain that frightened him. It was not knowing what was going to happen or knowing what had already happened and not being able to do anything to affect the outcome.

        It terrified him.

        Stein became quiet. With the arm not otherwise occupied playing with his partner's stomach, he supported himself on his elbow. He opened his palm and caught Spirit's chin, forcing it up. Once exposed, he found the tender spot beneath the jaw, mouth closing over it while he sucked the skin inside his mouth.

        A shiver shook through Spirit, from shoulders to hips, writhing for no reason other than to provide some form of resistance, as if he was somehow planning to say _Well, no, I didn't like it at all! Didn't you know? I squirmed once in the left direction! If you think about it, an L (left, see how it all comes together?) can be bent into an N, and everyone knows N stands for No!_

        When Stein's lips split and he moved his mouth to grin against his partner's jugular, Spirit's fingers gripped into the cruel tabletop as if he could find anything to hold -- anything solid.

        There was nothing. Stein's voice was painted with blood, like the merry malevolence found in cheerful serial killers and good-natured rapists. "Ah, and if you ask... I won't stop."

        Spirit's back slammed into Stein's chest roughly, his palms screeching while they slid on the steel and he scrambled, fighting for any sort of aid to help himself push away and escape. It wasn't working. He shrieked, "What the hell is wrong with you?! That's not the kind of thing you say! That's not the kind of thing anyone says! Stop trying to scare me!"

        Kind enough not to point out the fact he didn't need to _try_ to scare him, Stein didn't answer. He was content to catch one of Spirit's flailing, fish-out-of-water limbs by the wrist, pinning it down while the force of his weight sank him helplessly back down against the cold surface.

        Spirit stretched his other arm out, reaching toward the end of the table. Stein allowed that one to escape, watching the fingers curl around the edge.

        The struggle ended.

        Stein's clever eyes narrowed. His expression tottered on the fine line dividing all thoughts between 'not-so-sane' and 'flat-out-crazy.' It was a line Spirit had drawn long ago and was now becoming thinner and thinner, not eroded by time more than by special circumstance. He was kind of enough to tease, "I'm kidding~"

        Spirit didn't appreciate the joke. "You're not funny! You're really not funny!"

        "Maybe not."

        "Stop pinching!"

        "Ah?" He pinched his stomach again.

        "Ow!" Spirit's body tried to escape by arching its back, but found it couldn't move. It may as well have been encased in concrete. "Bastard!"

        "Maybe."

        "Your opinion doesn't count on that! You are one -- you really are! I'm ignoring you!"

        "Okay," said Stein, who figured being ignored was just as good as receiving permission to do what he wanted to do and he didn't even have to expend the effort of saying one-word answers.

        His hand crept like a spider, finding a new home beyond the dark waist of his partner's pants.


End file.
